Robin Wasserman - Lust

“He can’t give you what you need, Beth,” he told her, slowly running a hand through her long blond hair. She wanted to pull away but didn’t. “You need maturity, understanding, passion,” he continued. “This guy doesn’t deserve you.”

She looked down at the table, but then he said her name again and when she looked up, his handsome face was right there, inches from hers and moving closer, and his hands were on her, drawing her in, and then their lips met and he held her to him.

“Oh, Beth,” he murmured, and his lips were on her again, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth before she knew what was happening, exploring the moist, dark spaces inside of her, his hands running up and down her back-

She pushed him away, hard, jumped out of her seat and began backing toward the door.

“What are you-? Mr. Powell, what…?”

But she knew what. And she wanted to throw up, wanted to scrub the taste of him out of her mouth, wanted to fly at him, pound his chest with her fists, tear at his face with her nails, knock that bemused look off his poisonously handsome face. But instead she just stood in the doorway, unable to take a step forward-or back.

He started toward her. “Beth, I’m sorry, calm down, just sit down for a moment,” he pleaded.

He held his arms out from his sides, a conciliatory gesture, and gave her a weak half smile-it grew wider as she remained unmoving, then took a hesitant step toward him. He looked so stricken and apologetic, and after all, hadn’t he just done exactly what she’d been dreaming of him doing all these weeks? Maybe, Beth realized, horrified, she’d sent out some kind of signal, had drawn him in, overwhelmed his common sense-maybe she was the one who’d ruined everything.

“Come back in,” he repeated, “and we’ll talk about it. Everything will be fine.”

More talk. But that’s how it had all started-and after what had just happened, what was she supposed to say?

Beth shook her head, tears streaming freely down her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.

And ran out of the room.

Kaia pressed herself into the shadows, shaking with anger.

Beth, blinded by tears, ran by without seeing her. Kaia would deal with her later.

For now: Jack Powell. The asshole, the liar.

After blowing off Adam, she’d come to take another after-hours crack at the French teacher, hoping to convince him that rules were made to be broken.

But apparently, he already knew that.

She stood outside his doorway and watched as he took a few halfhearted steps after Beth, then sighed and slumped back down into his chair. He tapped an index finger rhythmically against his lips, looked up at the empty doorway, and then checked his watch-as if wondering whether she would come back, and how long he should choose to wait.

Don’t hold your breath, Kaia thought, shivering in disgust as the image of him lunging at Beth flashed through her mind. The girl (who’d obviously been mooning over Powell for weeks) was clearly either too wimpy or too stupid to take him up on the offer.

Kaia could see what he’d been thinking, of course. A girl like Beth would be easy to push around-she wasn’t “trouble in a miniskirt.” He’d probably guessed that she would jump at the chance to play his dutiful concubine for the year, rescuing him from boredom and then sweetly and quietly disappearing when the time came.

Kaia almost laughed-apparently, he’d guessed wrong. She was about to enter the room and blast Powell for spurning her, taunt him with what she knew. Then she stopped, considering his stooped figure-chin resting on his fists, staring into the distance, maybe wondering how to clean up the mess he’d made for himself if it ever came to light. If.

Kaia guessed that he was probably congratulating himself for picking a girl like Beth, who would likely lack the backbone needed to get him into any trouble. He probably figured that by steering clear of Kaia, by refusing to indulge in any “inappropriate fraternization” with the troublemaker, he would at least be safe on that front. At least he’d dodged that bullet.

Kaia shook her head in pity, and this time, she did laugh.

Sorry, Mr. Powell. Wrong again .

They ran into each other at their lockers-they were next to each other, of course. Midway through last year, Adam had bribed some sophomore to switch with him, so that he and Beth could be side by side. Sometimes Beth slipped little love notes in through the ventilation cracks at the top, and once in a while, Adam had even thought to make a romantic gesture of his own. On Valentine’s Day he had papered the inside of her locker with cut-out construction paper hearts and left a bouquet of roses waiting for her. It had always been a good thing, having the same home base to come back to, an easy meeting point, a safe refuge in the busy chaos of the day. But having neighboring lockers also meant there was no escape, and so here they were, side by side, at the worst possible time.

Still wet from swim practice and still steaming from his run-in with Kaia, Adam slammed his locker open and grabbed his bag, accidentally knocking down the photo of Beth he’d taped to the inside of the door on the first day of school. A spasm of guilt shot through him, and he snatched the picture off the ground, trying to stick it back up, but it was no use. The tape was too dried out, and he was forced to lay the picture atop a pile of junk; he swore to himself that he’d bring in more tape the next day and make things right. He’d make everything right.

He slammed the door shut, giving it a kick for good measure, and cursed Kaia under his breath, not for the first time.

The soulless, manipulative bitch.

And he’d let her ruin his life.

Enter Beth.

Tearful, replaying the moment in her mind again and again, and yet still unable to believe it had actually happened.

And had she wanted it to happen?

Asked for it to happen?

He saw her first-and had almost enough time to shrink away. But not quite.

“Beth!” he said forcefully. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“Adam?” Beth, who had walked right past him without noticing and began slowly spinning the combination lock on her locker, looked up hesitantly. It was as if she didn’t recognize him, didn’t quite believe he was real. Maybe because she’d already been imagining him standing there, because right now there was no one in the world she wanted to see more-or less.

She closed her eyes and took a moment of silence to shut out the world and regroup-but when she opened them, he was still there, waiting.

“Adam, I, uh…” her voice trailed off. What was she supposed to do, forget about their fight, tell him the truth about what had just happened, send him off to beat up Jack Powell and then get thrown out of school? And, of course, he’d never look at her the same way again. The Beth he knew didn’t go around seducing teachers-no, if she was going to make this work, she had to remain the girl he’d fallen in love with, and that girl was innocent, trustworthy, and above all, loyal. She didn’t need anyone other than her boyfriend, even in her fantasies.

And that’s who I am, she reminded herself, I am that girl.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, breaking the silence.

“I want to apologize,” she sputtered at the same time.

And that was all it took.

They spoke at once, the words spilling out hesitantly, their words overlapping, their voices growing in speed and strength as they decided where they were going, drowning each other out in their eagerness to get there.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I’ve been horrible.”

“I should have called-”